


Sunny Side Up

by littlebrownshoe (Wolfy_Tales)



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Erebor Never Fell, Alternative Universe - No Ring(s) of Power, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Growing Up Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 03:26:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5569117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfy_Tales/pseuds/littlebrownshoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Fíli met his intended, she nearly pulled his mustache off and puked all over his favorite tunic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunny Side Up

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the Hobbit.

 

  

_A Filgrid one-shot where Fíli learns of patience and Sigrid learns of happiness._

 

 

 

Fíli was fifty-one when he became aware of his arranged marriage.

He had learned long ago to internalize things that bothered him: he did not want to worry his Mum, or his Uncle. They already had so much to think over besides a blonde prince wondering about everything around him and where he fit into it all.

"What is it my Fíli?"

Of course Dís would see right through it, although Fíli supposed he was being a tad obvious with how obsessively he had been whittling pipes today.

"Balin explained to me the arrangement Uncle made with the ruler of Dale," Fíli muttered.

Dís hummed and sat down beside him, pushing his knife away without a speck of fear for the blade. She grabbed his free hands, and pulled him by them so she could envelope him in a hug. It was a little awkward, as she was standing while he was sitting on his tall work stool. He was taller than her, and it felt wrong to wrap his arms around her shoulders instead of waist. Maybe Fíli really was growing up in more ways past the fuzz on his cheeks.

"What if I fall in love, and she's not _the one_?" Fíli asked into his parent's shoulder. "What if I hurt our kingdom's alliance, and her heart in the process?"

"You know there are very few who fall in love in an instant," Dís said, one of her hands letting go of her son's fingers to card through his hair. "Most of us, we grow to love the one before us. It was that way with Vili."

Fíli was glad that in hugs she could not see his face, as his frown only grew at her soft words. It had already been thirty years since his Father's death, and Fíli wondered if the sparse memories he held onto so tightly had altered and dulled with the years passing.

"It's a long time away, young one," Dís continued to say. "And do not think that love is the only thing you must accomplish in your life. Many dwarrows do not care for it, or find it, and their lives are no lesser than the most smitten."

.

Fíli was sixty-three the first time he met his intended.

The dwarf had just switched to fighting with two swords and his mustache was finally just getting long enough to braid. Sigrid, who was two at the time, had grabbed onto said mustaches and pulled while she gurgled away.

For once Kíli was the one saving his ass, pulling away the bundle of cloth and grabby fingers. He did not mind when she pulled at his hair, probably because he did not care about his locks at all. Even though he was scarcely a few years younger that Fíli, he seemed much more closer to Sigrid's maturity level in nearly every way.

"Her name is Sigrid," Bard said, clearly hesitant about this entire arrangement. In contrast, his beautiful blonde wife beside him had a soft smile on her face.

Yet it was undeniable how beneficial the arrangement was: their kingdoms had never been joined in marriage even if they had been in everything else for decades. They relied on each other in times of struggle and peace, a seemingly endless alliance between two vastly different races.

Fíli just did not quite understand why _he_ had to be the one getting married off. Especially to a human, who would be grown seemingly in the blink of his eye.

Kíli handed back Sigrid to him, and Fíli looked down at the girl hesitantly. She had the slightest tuff of blonde on the crown of her head, and Fíli itched to touch it to see if it was as soft as it looked.

Of course the babe took that opportune time when his guard was down to puke all over his front.

.

Fíli was sixty-five the next time he saw Sigrid.

The first prince had been having a great time dancing and drinking (and so consequently hiding from his royal relatives), when something bright caught his gaze. He thought it would be the golden hair of the woman, but Fíli realized it was actually her wide smile and the teeth that shone.

Fíli found himself staring as Bard twirled about his wife, a small and rare smile on his grim face. The dwarf realized slowly that this was the first time he had actually seen any slight glee on the man's face; it was like the simple band of gold around his head weighed a mountain.

The woman's stomach was clearly pronounced, and Fíli remembered how easily it was for men to have children. Unlike with dwarves, where it took months (if the couple was exceptionally lucky) and years to even conceive, much less have a successful birth, men could easily have a whole line of heirs.

Speaking of other children, Fíli's eyes moved from the dancing couple to try and find his intended. Maybe it was morbid fascination, to see if the fat in her childish cheeks had already diminished to show the beauty she might have inherited from her mother. Fíli knew it was ridiculous, as humans grew fast, but not that exceedingly quick.

Maybe Fíli should be more shocked, but he found himself only chuckling when he finally spotted Sigrid. Her hair was longer than the fuzz from before, and now hung in straight lines to end at a solid fringe above her shoulders. She was sitting on Bifur's knees, one of the dwarf's hands behind her little back to hold her still as she giggled and squirmed while Bofur showed off a toy fashioned after an eagle.

Fíli wondered if she had naturally singled out those two dwarfs, as they were accustomed to children from having to deal with Bombur's pack of offspring. The two seemed to be just as entertained by the child as she was with them. The prince thought that human children were probably less reckless like dwarflings tended to be.

The blonde wondered if he should go over and say hello. She seemed old enough not to spit up randomly anymore, and truthfully Fíli would be the one to empty his stomach first by all the mead he had drunken tonight.

Yet then Kíli was pulling him away, Ori already tucked under the younger prince's other arm. Fíli huffed at his brother's antics before following along, completely forgetting about the little girl.

.

Fíli was sixty-seven when he was ambushed by Sigrid in the kitchens.

He had been sent down by Kíli (stuck in bed from a strained ankle) with the request for some vanilla pudding with roasted almonds, a hint of nutmeg, and cinnamon sticks atop it. Others might think the younger prince a little simple, but his rich tastes in foods was anything but.

Of course a casual stroll down the kitchens mid-afternoon had left the blonde loose and off guard. So when he saw a blur of blue and blonde, he was stricken in shock more than the force of something latching onto his legs.

"She gotcha Fíli!"

This brought Fíli blinking up from a crown of golden hair to see Bofur and Bifur sitting on stools. Obviously the former had talked, while the later silently laughed and signed how savage human children were.

"Prisoner!" the girl said, the word muffled slightly against Fíli's thick tunic. It was a more than a little bizarre to see that even at Sigrid's young age, her head already made it to his chest.

"Come off him, little lass. He's a prince you know!" Bombur said, appearing with flour on his apron and a pie in either of his hands. "Your lunch should be ready soon."

It was a classic maneuver: using food to control a child (or any dwarf truly), and Sigrid was as willing as any other. She let go of Fíli in a moment, and turned to the stools, not embarrassed at all to wave for Bofur to pick her up even though she did not need the help.

"I didn't know Bard was visiting," Fíli said hesitantly as he sat beside Bofur, eyeing Sigrid warily. She was still staring at him with wide, clear eyes that should blink more than they did.

Bofur shrugged, and then said: "Not really. His wife thought it would be good to come visit the mountain more, to acclimate the lass to around here. So she doesn't feel like a stranger when she comes up."

"Right," Fíli said briskly, wondering how much this arrangement was altering Sigrid's life. Was it more than to his own?

"You have yolk hair!" Sigrid suddenly exploded, nearly falling over Bofur to make a grab at Fíli's hair.

The prince had a flashback to nearly five years ago when she had latched on and nearly pulled his mustache out and off. He expertly leaned back and away, thinking this was more danger than he saw in a normal day in the mountain.

"Yolk hair?" Bombur asked out curiously.

"Like in eggs," Sigrid said, mouth wide and showing off how many teeth she was missing. "My Ma makes the best eggs in the mornings. Sunny side up!"

Fíli stared at the girl, wondering just what was more disturbing about all that she had just spewed. If anything, she should compare his hair to gold, or molten iron just beginning to cool. His hair was not similar to something a chicken essentially shit out.

"Well, that expression sure isn't sunny side up," Bofur said with a chuckle. "I'd watch that face, Fíli, else you start resembling Thorin more in than just his majestic stride."

.

Fíli was sixty-eight when he went to the funeral for the late Lady of Dale.

In accordance to the odd human custom of wearing black (as if the day was not somber enough), Fíli was stripped of his jeweled belt and rings. He felt nearly naked even with the thick died cotton, as he was accustomed to having his furs and shades of brown and red.

Only differing hair colors stuck out in the ocean of black, and Fíli craned his head about him to try and see all the different shades. It was fascinating, to note that it was only through height that Fíli was allowed to differentiate the dwarfs from humans. With them clad in black and sadness they blended together seamlessly.

The ceremony itself was painfully short. Bard had stood and attempted to stay some words, but found that he could not. Fíli had grimaced when he watched a silent Sigrid approach and pull him away by his sleeve. Her head had been down the entire time, unwilling to face the audience and world before her.

Another human custom Fíli did not like was having to go to the casket and see the face of the deceased. Dwarrows always made sure to close the stone tomb tightly before taking it down below: it was hard enough dealing with an individual's death, much less seeing it directly in their still face.

Yet this woman did not seem hurt, or had passed away in pain and violence like so many of Fíli's kin. Her hair was all around her, eyes closed and hands clasping flowers that looked like little bells all in a line. Her dress was white like the bell-flowers, and Fíli wondered if it was her wedding gown. Humans and their odd perchance for monochromatic attires.

Fíli reached forward, and placed the small yellow zircon he had chosen for the occasion. It was not nearly as precious or big as the ruby Kíli had chosen, the sapphire Thorin had found, or the diamond Dís had given. But Fíli thought that it fit her hair, and when he placed it down by her head amid the flowers and other little things, her realized that the gem brightened against her blonde hair.

The dwarf told himself to stop staring, as there was no beauty or glory to be found in death. While other races thought dwarfs were reckless in their wars and aggression, they forgot it made them more acute to the pain of loved ones lost.

Fíli moved away, and allowed Kíli his moment to give his jewel and farewell to a woman he had not known either. Both of them had only seen her from a distance, and Fíli realized in dread that he had not had one conversation with her. She had wandered in Erebor many a day with her eldest daughter, even when she was with child for a third time, and Fíli had never personally greeted her.

The dwarf walked the few feet to stand by Thorin and Dís, who had obviously been watching him. It seemed that whatever words they had given to Bard had passed, as the man stood straight with his hands clasped behind his back. Further behind him, Fíli saw Sigrid and Bain.

He realized that if Sigrid stood, she would probably be at his same height. But with her form crumpled down and around her younger brother, Fíli realized he would not have a chance to see if he was correct.

"Thank you for coming," Bard said, voice rough with emotion and a loosening grip on everything around him.

Dís was the one brave enough to reach forward and grab his hand. Fíli knew that if Bard could find empathy in anyone, it would be his mother.

.

Fíli was seventy when he joined the guard.

It was not a glamorous duty, even more-so when it came with having to answer to Dwalin as his captain. Not that Fíli was unaccustomed to learning and looking up to the tall dwarf: he had been doing weapons training with him and Thorin since he could stand.

While there was something exciting about training with a group, they only practiced three times a week. Sometimes they marched around the mountain, but mostly they just stood at the walls. Waiting for an enemy stupid enough to attack their kingdom.

The blonde almost hated this necessary duty he would have to preform until he was eighty and of age to determine what he wanted to pursue. Not that he had much choice or chance to get away from the inevitability of inheriting Erebor. Fíli still had his lessons, and still sat in on meetings when he could get away from guard duty.

Thorin said he had a clear and level head for politics that his mother never had (not that Fíli was _ever_ to repeat that statement to Dís). In a way, it was nice to have time with Thorin without having to junky for attention against Kíli. Still, Fíli found himself missing his brother more than reveling in growing into his skin without Kíli as a crutch.

The blonde should be jealous of Kíli and all the adventuring he did with his hunting parties, but Fíli was happy to let Kíli be the one to roam. Just the other day he bragged they had gone all the way to the edge of Mirkwood; it seemed farfetched but sometimes Kíli was gone for weeks at a time. The sticks and leaves gathered in his hair proved it. Fíli would not be surprised if he became like that odd wizard with the bird nest in his hair.

Yet it seemed for once that Fíli was the one with the exciting job, as he was part of the chosen guard to escort King Thorin and Princess Dís to the celebrations in Dale today. It was the centennial celebration for the defeat of Smaug by the hand of Girion. It had cemented Erebor's continued prosperity, and the arranged marriage Fíli found himself in now.

Bard still looked hollow, only a fragment of the man he had been once. Fíli could see he was holding a large bundle against his chest, and he realized in a start it must be his youngest child. For the dwarf thinking that humans could have a handful of children in a blink, he forgot how fragile they were. It had been bringing that little life into this world that had taken his wife's.

Fíli had seen Bard throughout the months since his wife's passing from meetings, but he had not seen his children. Sigrid seemed to have grown more in height but not waist, and her figure seemed a tad comedic in the heavy dress she wore. Bain seemed only a bit more energized, his dark eyes so like Kíli's: darting around to the dwarfs and elves that had come for the celebrations.

The blonde knew how death could sit heavy on those still living, and he made sure to watch the little family as everyone drank and made merry around him. Fíli noticed that the only time Sigrid smiled was when Bofur and Bifur went to the high table and showed off their new toys.

Her cheeks flushed when they handed over one wooden toy after another, and Fíli realized she finally looked like her young age again. The dwarf thought it just as sad as her mother's death that she had been forced to grow up at the age of eight.

He knew humans grew and died in but a season for dwarves, a fleeting moment for elves. Still, that should make their childhoods that much brighter, not bitter.

.

Fíli was seventy-five when he was asked by Bofur if he wanted to go visit Sigrid down in Dale.

"I didn't know you visited her," Fíli said, looking up from his lunch with a frown. Today he had thought to dine at a different hour after getting off his guard shift, and had been pleasantly surprised to find it coincided with Bofur's time off of the mines.

"Her Mum brought her up here, but Sigrid doesn't like to come up now that she's gone. But she's more than happy to see people in Dale. And you haven't seen you intended in some time, haven't you?"

Fíli frowned, thinking it best not to mention how he had not even had a conversation with the lass. Maybe it was him still pushing off the inevitability that was to come in only five years now. Although maybe it would be good to see her, and get the image of a sad girl out of his head. Dressed in black and hair limp in comparison to her preferred blues and curls.

After sending a messenger to Thorin explain why Fíli would not be attending the afternoon meeting about two guilds' argument, the blonde followed Bofur out the mountain. He was still wearing his bright armor, a raven design spread across his chest, and Fíli thought he should have changed. Walking with Bofur made them both seem comical contrasts to each other.

Bofur knew the streets well, and Fíli followed obediently along as he was fairly helpless out of the mountain he had lived his entire life in. The other dwarf smiled and waved to people passing, ruffling children's hair. Fíli wondered just how often he came down.

Finally they got to a house that looked just like the others about; it looked nothing magnificent to signify that the town's royalty slept there. Bofur took the step up and knocked loudly four times. It only took a moment for a pair of footsteps to be heard. When the little girl opened the door suddenly, all smiles and blond hair, Fíli thought the impossible had happened and he had gone back in time.

"Hello little Tilda!" Bofur called happily as he swept her up in his arms.

Fíli shook his head; of course. That was the younger sister, even though she looked surprisingly similar to when Sigrid had been that age. As if thinking her name called her, Fíli looked and saw another figure standing in the doorway with Bofur and the girl.

Sigrid had grown in height yet again, and while her face had been pockets of fat seemingly yesterday, she now had defined cheekbones. She had the look of someone forced to grow up too fast, from the bulky clothes to the dark lines under her eyes.

That afternoon Fíli sat with Bofur and drank tea, even though he hated the hot beverage. He noticed Sigrid sneaking glances at him, and wondered if she thought about their arranged marriage as much as he did. She would come of age at eighteen soon, but she would have to wait a couple more until Fíli himself was of age at eighty.

Thankfully there was always loud Tilda, or joking Bofur, to break up the tension between the affianced. While they sat next to each other, Fíli was hyper-aware to make sure his broad shoulder did not brush against her arm as they sat at the small table. He timed when he grabbed for a muffin or biscuit, so she might not touch his hand from grabbing for the same thing.

Some hours later, when Fíli was back in the mountain, he realized he had not had a conversation with the lass still. It was just like with her mother, with the dwarf thinking he had all the time in the world to speak and get to know her.

Maybe the fact that their marriage would be loveless did not mean it had to be painful.

.

Fíli was still seventy-five when he made his first gift to Sigrid.

It was nothing much: just a simple little dagger that had a cunning geometric design carved in the handle made from a deer's antler Fíli himself had felled. It was small and light; simple but still nice to look at.

He sent it along with his raven Ko, a short letter attached to the small bundle.

Ko arrived back shortly after, her feathers a little ruffled and smelling of sausage. Fíli eyed her, but she would not return the gaze back. She had been indulging in more meat than was good for her; Ko was already round enough from disuse.

The letter Sigrid gave in answer was clipped and only read a few sentences. It gave a thanks for the gift, although she did not see any point to have it. She had kitchen knives bigger and better if there was ever a situation that she needed to defend herself.

Fíli frowned, wondering if she knew anything about dwarvish culture and courting. He had thought it almost offensive by the simple weapon he had given her, but he thought it fit her well. Sturdy with no frills or unneeded decoration. Clearly she thought that this was just a sign of aggression, and Fíli realized she probably did more sewing with a needle than sword practice. It was pure idiocy, how most humans did not train their women like their men.

Fíli wrote an apology next, even though he thought Sigrid was the one entirely out of line. She had not even tried to see his reason, or truly thank him for the gift. At least she had not simply sent it back in rejection.

To this letter he attached some hair clips he had meant to give to Kíli, but he could make new ones later. They were made of a silver alloy, so they were delicate but still strong. They were a tad masculine in contrast to Sigrid's feminine grace, but it would do.

Unlike the knife, the note she gave back seemed earnest in her thanks. Ko also carried a loaf of bread back, and Fíli would forever remember how his lovely raven puffed after she landed. He gave his bird part of the bread in thanks for just that.

.

Fíli was seventy-seven when he saw Sigrid smile for the first time since she was a child.

She was now undeniably a young woman, with the tall frame and long hair to match. The lass still seemed more somber than necessary, but Fíli had lost his father young, not his mother when he had many memories of her. And while he was a heir while she was not, it was clear she did more work in preparation to help Bain than most siblings did. He wondered if she would have been Bard's first in line if she had not been so immediately given away as Fíli's future bride.

Fíli realized that he was not the worst one in this situation when he invited Sigrid over last year and saw how she cowered in the mountain. As if she was afraid her head would hit the ceilings that towered three times her height above her. She truly had been uncomfortable about the tour (not that much had changed in the years since she had visited), before they went to the kitchens.

It was the reason that Sigrid was smiling now. Fíli had insisted they try to make eggs 'Sunny Side Up' as she had so called them jubilantly in her youth. Of course Fíli failed fantastically at it, and had succeeded in breaking the yolk of three eggs in a row now.

"Here, let me," Sigrid said as she took the skillet from his hand and pushing him away with a soft push of her hip against his side.

Fíli let go, ignoring how nice it was to have her rough fingers drag against the back of his hand to grab the handle. She gave him a smile before regressing the pan with butter, and then cracked four eggs in the pan.

"Would you toast four bread slices and put atop it cheese?" she asked as she edged the spatula under the first egg to check on the bottom.

The dwarf jolted into attention, and went to grab plates and bread, along with some cheese. It was almost comical how overqualified he was in holding the knife to cut the food. When he got back, Sigrid put an egg atop each piece of bread.

"You eat that first, and I'll make some more," Sigrid said with a slight ghost of her previous smile.

Fíli nodded and lifted himself up effortlessly on the counter beside her on the stove. He bit into the first slice, and enjoyed the rich taste of the golden center. Fíli turned to thank Sigrid, but when he took the food away from his mouth he felt the yolk dribble onto his beard.

He hurried to clean it off, but the damage had already been done. Sigrid was grasping at her sides, head thrown back as she laughed without abandon. Bombur passed by and gave them a glance between them before huffing and turning away.

"It's not that funny," Fíli muttered through his napkin. "And anyways, you should he happy more than entertained that your metaphor for me came true."

"It's just too grand," Sigrid said with a deep exhale, "You, the golden prince having egg in your precious beard."

"It's not that funny," Fíli repeated, although his mustache did not hide his slight grin.

.

Fíli was seventy-eight when he attended his first meeting with Sigrid.

They were meeting for an informal agreement to the marriage, as the contract had been signed at the lass' birth. That if she should live to eighteen, and Fíli to eighty (in the event of his death, Kíli would step up), they should be bonded in their way of choosing.

It was not entirely unknown to marry for political reasons in human cultures, but it was very rare in dwarvish ones. Dwarves were truly romantics underneath their thick skin and layers of clothing; they found warmth in their mountains from their race and their forges. Still, just like Dís had explained all those years ago, many times something was slowly crafted like any finely-made item. It took time and dedication, and not many were immediately stricken.

(Unless you were Kíli when it came to a redheaded elf that was entirely out of his league and any mischief Thorin thought his younger nephew could get into.)

Fíli himself had hope, which was a rare thing for one so level-headed. But this past year he had been going to visit her more (even she made the long faced Bard tolerable), and she many times rode to see him in the mountain. Bombur would grumble when they came in, complaining about how Fíli bumbled so much while Sigrid made his assistants feel worthless.

To put it simply, the dwarf thought he could honestly call Sigrid a friend. He had never had many of those, being the heir to the wealthiest kingdom in all of Middle Earth and all that. He would never be closer to another as Kíli in that type of affection, and many others were related in some part. Except for Ori, but he only knew him through Dori's father's connection to the line of Durin.

The blonde had been hesitant about getting to know Sigrid. What if indifference was the best option: maybe it would be better to live ignorantly of each other than discover they were truly incompatible.

Instead Fíli found a fast friend in his fellow blonde. While she was still somber and serious at heart in a way that made Fíli feel young and foolish, she was unbearably kind and observant. She would be the one to see a dwarf struggling with carrying so many bags of coal and try and offer help. Not out of jest or pity, but truly because she wanted to help. (Of course half the time she could not, and Fíli had to step up to help the situation.)

"I can't believe it's actually happening," Sigrid said, words nearly taken away by the wind as they stood at one of the balconies.

They had called a recess, as it seemed Bard was having second thoughts now that the marriage was but seasons away. Fíli could understand: Sigrid looked more like her mother by the day, and he was unwilling to let go of such a strong remnant of his love. But Fíli was confident that he could make Sigrid happy and laugh like she had from her past visits.

"It's been years in the making," Fíli reminded.

"Still, the image of me in a wedding dress and you dressed in your heavy tunics and cloaks. What are dwarvish weddings even like?"

"Simple, really," Fíli said as he brought out his pipe to pack. "We walk up, take our hands, and Thorin will recite a few lines. Then we sign a document confirming our agreement, and that's it."

"We give a verbal agreement, too," Sigrid informed.

"I think we should do a mixing of everything, or would you rather like to go through two separate weddings?"

"Oh, one will be more than enough," Sigrid said with a laugh. "Goodness knows my Da's heart can only take one."

An easy silence sat between the two of them, and Fíli wordlessly handed over his pipe after a few puffs. Sigrid took it and indulged in a drag before handing it back. Usually she would have more: she really was strung out about this then.

When she offered the pipe back, Fíli instead grabbed for her hand and held it in his.

"It's going to be fine, Sigrid," he said, voice pitched low to try and comfort her more.

Sigrid nodded, and her fingers twitched underneath his.

.

Fíli was eighty years old when Sigrid shoved cake into his face so forcefully he was still snorting it out after an hour.

Apparently it was a tradition from the Shire that the odd little hobbit Thorin had brought back thought of. At first Fíli did not know what to do with the little creature, with his bare feet and easy smiles. Apparently he had volunteered to come here as a representative to discuss food and gold between his people and Erebor. He could not be so bad, considering the fast friendship he had struck up with Ori and Sigrid. And Bofur, but everyone was Bofur's friend.

Fíli would think Thorin unable to handle someone so obviously soft and open, so was amazed when he realized Thorin actually _favored_ Bilbo. It had something to do with a traveling orc pack and the hobbit being the one to save the King. Fíli was just happy to have his uncle back so he would not have to be crowned without having a steady queen at his side.

Regardless, Fíli did not look favorably at Bilbo as he blew his nose once again. The little man did not even attempt to hide his loud laughter, and Thorin was (Mahal madness) smiling underneath his beard.

"The elves shouldn't have bothered coming," Fíli said demurely to Sigrid as they sat at their high table. "Seeing as there should be another wedding between two unexpected individuals soon enough."

"Nori's already started a betting pool," Sigrid said offhandedly. "I already put two hundred gold pieces for us next Summer."

"That's two seasons away!" Fíli said in exasperation. "You really think they're going to dance around each other throughout Winter and Spring? I would think that nature lover would be unable to contain himself when the snow eventually thaws."

"Oh no, they're going to dance around each other before Thorin decides that maybe he should court the odd hobbit," Sigrid said in confidence. "And Bilbo will wait for his head to calm in Summer, not to mention the fact he's supposed to leave in Autumn. That will force his hand."

"And I suppose I just have to go along, considering what's mine is now yours," Fíli said, huffing so exaggeratedly that his mustaches swung up and away from his mouth.

Sigrid laughed at that, and leaned down to nudge her forehead against his temple. Even though they were now married, the most they had ever done was hold hands. It made Fíli's ears feel warm at her proximity, and how he could smell the few flowers added to the jewels Dís had decorated her hair with.

"I just hope your confidence makes us a pretty penny," Fíli grumbled to try and distract himself from how nice her hair felt against his.

"You'll see," Sigrid said with a final nudge before pulling away.

Fíli had told himself he would not force anything, that if Sigrid was willing to remain as solely friends he would respect that. He did not care if their love became something more, as he was happy in the short time he had with her of all they already had. The dwarf could admit he was happy she was married to him, knowing that she would at least never fall for another again. It was a hollow victory, one he had not won but had been between their two kingdoms since Smaug's fall, but it was still something in his favor.

How odd, to think that she had once been a girl giggling about eggs, and now she was sitting equal with him. A crown on her head and not bowing under the weight. Whatever ignorant thoughts Fíli had in his youth about the weakness of men's dispositions had been proven false by the lass before him.

"You have a furrow in your brow," Sigrid said without turning away from her tankard of mead. "What's got you so confused on our day of joining?"

"Just when you leave I'll miss you."

Sigrid looked up slowly at that, but the smile that spread over her face was fast.

"Such morbid thoughts for our first day together."

Fíli turned away, throat feeling tight and cheeks warm.

"It's true."

"But not for this night. Tonight I am here with you, and I want a dance," Sigrid said as she stood in one smooth motion, seemingly unhindered by the layers of white and lace she wore. "Now are you going to follow me, husband, or am I to be the one left behind?"

Fíli smiled bitterly at the joke, but still got up to join her.

Sigrid's easy smile and light feet made Fíli forget such heavy thoughts, and he found himself smiling and laughing and drinking. Their blonde hair swung in harmony to the music, as it seemed his human could not get enough of dancing with him.

"I am happy to spend the rest of my days with you, my golden Fíli," she said unexpectedly, pulling him close in the middle of a dance without warning. "We have so much time yet before us. While I understand your worry, I'm endlessly glad I get to spend the rest of my days with you. I am truly blessed in that."

"Then let us make every day count," Fíli said solemnly, raising a hand to run through her hair. He marveled at the touch, and how he was allowed this luxury now.

Sigrid smiled brighter than the gold of Thorin's crown, any or Bilbo's flowers, or even the morning sun her favorite breakfast dish had been named after.

 

 

FIN

 

 

 


End file.
